


in the rain, in the dark we'll lay

by brookethenerd



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9431837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: au in which philip falls apart, and lukas is there to catch him





	

Philip doesn’t break. At least, not often, and not in front of people.

When he splits open, and waves of loss and hurt and longing slam into him, he keeps it quiet. He cleans himself up and patches himself back together.

It’s what he’s always done.

Most of the time, he can feel it coming. He can feel the clogging of his throat and the clawing in his belly.

But today, it hits him fast and knocks the breath out of him.

He and Lukas are in town, having just left an old record store. Neither has a record player, but the store does, so they often make trips down there, and mess around with it. Philip writes down the songs they agree need to be added to their playlist; it’s getting pretty long after these few months, but neither wants to stop adding.

They push out into the sun, Lukas’ hand on Philip’s arm, lips curled up in a smile. He opens his mouth to say something, and at the same time, a gun goes off.

Philip stops, frantically searching for the gun, for Ryan Kane. He can’t breathe and he can’t hear anything but the ringing in his ears.

Then Lukas is grabbing his shoulders, turning him to face him, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Lukas asks, looking around, as if the reason for Philip’s fear is standing right beside them.

“The gun. There’s a gun. A-“ Philip stops, gaze falling to the shop a few feet away; a hardware store. Outside, a man in an orange apron sporting a tool belt holds up a board, and lifts a nail gun. It makes the same noise Philip heard when they walked out.

“Lukas-“ His voice comes out strangled, and then Lukas is grabbing his arm, tugging him away. Philip follows blindly, throat closing. The world is tilting, getting smaller, cracking beneath his feet. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

Lukas leads him around the side of the buildings, into the grass that leads to the trees, out of sight from the street.

Philip crouches down, one hand in the grass, gasping for breath. He clamps his eyes shut, tries to forget the way it sounded when Lukas’ limp body slammed into the water, tries to forget the slick wood of his mother’s casket, tries to forget the rubbing of his skin against the rope that bound him and Lukas in Kane’s trunk.

But he can’t forget, he can never forget.

Lukas pulls him up, trying to get him to straighten, but Philip is curling in on himself. Something like sobs rack his chest, and rather than trying to say anything, Lukas hesitates, then wraps his arms around him. Philip goes still, his instinct telling him to run. But Lukas’ grip on him is strong, and he can’t seem to bring himself to shove him away.

Instead, his fingers curl around the fabric of Lukas’ shirt, and he buries his face in his neck, trying to breathe.

And after a few agonizing moments, he can. The breath comes back to him slowly, in pieces. The panic leaks out of his skin. The rationality returns; Kane is dead, dead, will always be dead, can never come back. Kane can’t hurt him, and he can’t hurt Lukas, and he can’t hurt Helen or Gabe.

He almost adds his mom to that mental tally before he remembers.

He’s safe. He’s safe. Lukas has him, and he isn’t going to let him go.

“I got you. I got you.” Lukas says, voice softer than Philip has ever heard it, lips pressed to Philip’s hair.

His hands run up and down Philip’s back, pulling some of the tension with them.

When he trusts himself to move, Philip pulls back, taking deep breaths. Lukas’ eyes flicks around his face, likely searching for some sign that Philip is going to lose it again. He doesn’t seem to find it, and his gaze settles on Philip’s eyes.

His brows pull together slightly, and then he’s pulling Philip back into his arms, but this time, it’s different. It’s not just trying to make Philip feel better. He can feel the difference.

This is Lukas, worried about Philip, glad he’s okay, trying to make him understand in the only way he knows how. The words always seem to get stuck behind Lukas’ teeth, but he manages to say them in other ways.

Philip closes his eyes, hugging him back, using the smell that is _Lukas_ to keep him grounded.

“Does that happen a lot?” Lukas asks, pulling back to look at him.

“Not that often.” Philip says, averting his gaze.

He isn’t lying. It has gotten better. At first, it happened once a day. Now, once or twice a week.

He’s getting there. He just hasn’t _gotten_ there yet.

“I can be at your house in like 5 minutes. Just let me know, okay?” Lukas asks.

“Okay.” Philip says. Lukas’ lips pull thin, and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Philip’s temple.

“It isn’t always gonna be like this. It’s gonna be better.” These words, like the hug, are double coated. It isn’t an empty promise. It’s Lukas telling him something he knows, something he himself is figuring out. It’s Lukas telling Philip that he’ll be there until it gets better, and after.

Philip leans forward, and Lukas moves to meet him, tipping their foreheads together. Philip’s eyes flutter shut, and he takes a slow breath.

“We’re gonna be okay.” Lukas says softly.

Though it might not be true, Lukas believes it. And because Lukas does, Philip does too.


End file.
